


Watching You Watching Me

by Copper_Nails (Her_Madjesty)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ach-To, Canon Compliant, Exhibitionism, F/F, Female Kylo Ren, Force Bond (Star Wars), Inappropriate Use of the Force, Mutual Masturbation, To a point, Voice Kink, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 11:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13569573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Her_Madjesty/pseuds/Copper_Nails
Summary: Rey grasps for something – anything – at all to say as the silence carries. “Don’t you,” she stutters, mouth gone dry. “Don’t you have a cowl, or - something else to put on?”





	Watching You Watching Me

**Author's Note:**

> I always post my fics at some unreasonable morning hour. Wonder why that is.
> 
> I've been away from this ship for a little bit, but I've been wanting to play around with Fem!Kylo for a little while and thought that the scene on Ach-To - more infamously known as Kylo's Shirtless Scene - would be a fun place to start. Hope you enjoy it!

Rain runs down Rey’s back, sticking the light fabric of her tunic against her skin. She grits her teeth as thunder rings out above her head and the ocean beyond Ach-To roars. Her grip on her staff falters as her palms grow slick, but she presses forward, away from the _Millennium Falcon_ and the shoreline and towards the small village of Caretakers.

It’s almost a relief – if not quite – when the roar of the galaxy around her dulls; the quiet is welcome enough that, briefly, Rey forgets what it heralds. Then, she squeezes her eyes shut. She forces herself to keep walking, focusing on the sound of the ocean waves, but still, the sounds around her dim to nothingness, turning the galaxy into a fine, noiseless point.

“I really don’t want to do this right now,” Rey says into the quiet. She refuses to open her eyes.

“Yeah, me too.” Kylo Ren’s voice is surprisingly light, despite her obvious annoyance. Rey’s grown used to the other woman’s generalized disdain; it never feels directed at her, but rather towards the galaxy at large.

When the silence around her refuses to fill, Rey spins on her heel, ready to stare down her enemy until the bond relents. Instead, she feels her jaw unhinge. Witty insults and pleas for peace alike float out of her mind like bubbles or garbage picked up by the wind on Jakku.

Kylo Ren is shirtless.

She must be aboard the _Finalizer_ , Rey knows – the steel emptiness of the ship has become as unwillingly familiar as Ren’s presence. The pale expanse of would-be Sith is a wretched departure from the norm, though; her black robes lie in a puddle at her feet. Even as Rey stares, she doesn’t bother crossing her arms to cover the bindings around her chest; instead, Rey feels herself being cross-examined with a patient kind of boredom.

She – ogles. The other woman’s breasts, even wrapped as they are, are undoubtedly bigger than her own. Not that that’s terribly surprising; the whole of Kylo Ren is larger than Rey: she’s better fed, better trained – tall. Rey forces her gaze up to her enemy’s face and ignores the scars etched into her skin. They shoot out like lightning from her heart and dance along her collarbones. There are bruises of purple, yellow, and green spattered across the pale expanse, as though she’s some sort of distorted, ever-changing canvas.

Rey grasps for something – anything – at all to say as the silence carries. “Don’t you,” she stutters, mouth gone dry. “Don’t you have a cowl, or - something else to put on?”

She’s too distracted by the heat flooding her face to notice Kylo Ren’s lips twitching into a smirk. The expression is gone in a heartbeat as the would-be Sith schools her face back into neutrality. She looks, Rey thinks, ready to wait the whole exchange out in silence.

Rey, on the other hand, bristles. “Why,” she begins, trying to steady her breathing, “why did you hate your father? Give me an honest answer.”

She keeps her gaze on Kylo Ren’s face and notes the crease the forms between the woman’s brows.

“He loved you,” she barrels on, ruthless and unforgiving. “He gave a damn about you, and you just – threw that all away!”

“I didn’t hate him,” Kylo says. It takes Rey a moment to decide that she’s radiating – something, maybe confusion, but it’s quick to shift back into would-be patience.

Her enemy’s calm exterior makes her want to scream. “Then why did you do it?!” Rey demands.

“Do what?” Kylo asks. Her voice is so soft, Rey knows it would be lost in the sound of the rain, could either of them hear it. She curls her hands into fists and sneers.

“Do what?” Kylo repeats. “Go on. Say it.”

Rey blinks back the sharp pain of tears as they gather in her eyes. “Why did you kill him?” she chokes out.

Something in Kylo Ren’s face looks almost approving. The woman doesn’t turn away, but she backs up a step and sits on what Rey assumes to be her bed. She begins to unwind the wraps around her arms – long, black strips of fabric that she abandons on the cold, metal floor.

“Your parents threw you away like garbage,” she says, glancing up at Rey through her lashes, “and yet you cling to the idea of them. Why, I wonder?”

Rey tastes the deflection on her tongue like iron, but she can’t help rising to the bait. “They didn’t throw me away,” she spits. She refuses to trace the lines of Kylo Ren’s biceps, refuses to look at the woman’s chest as it heaves with some sort of aborted laughter.

“They are your greatest weakness,” Kylo presses on. “Your connection to them made you latch on to Han Solo. Now you trail after Skywalker, hoping he’ll take you in. It doesn’t matter how stubborn you are; a scavenger like yourself should be able to recognize the trend.”

“I have to admit nothing, especially not to you.” The rain picks up around her; Rey swears and tries to unstick her tunic from her skin. She shivers and runs a hand through the hair that’s fallen into her face. She can feel Kylo Ren’s eyes on her, tracking every move.

Across the galaxy, the would-be Sith finishes removing her arm wraps, then toes out of her boots. Rey bites down a growl as the woman begins to peel off of her pants. She does not look at the pale skin that the dark fabric leaves behind – doesn’t catalogue new bruises in a kaleidoscope of colors.

“Has he told you yet?” Kylo asks, focusing on the catch of fabric near her knee. “What happened when I left?”

“I know everything I need to.” Rey tries to ignore the way her voice grows weaker as the full length of Kylo’s legs come into view. The other woman has muscles like Rey’s never seen; almost sculpted and impossible to ignore. There is a thin prickling of hair scattered across her skin, but the bulk of it appears to have been worn away.

Kylo follows Rey’s gaze and grimaces. For a moment, Rey’s awash with a memory: the sharp taste of Force lightning on her tongue; eyebrows, eyelashes, and a wash of body hair falling away. Rey shivers and cannot prevent a wave of sympathy from spreading across the bond the two of them share.

If Kylo feels the emotion, she does not react.

“I know everything I need to,” Rey repeats, hating the uncertainty in her tone.

Kylo studies her, head tilted to one side. Rey finds herself distracted by the thin hair falling into the other woman’s eyes and wonders, in some small part of her mind, how long it took Kylo to grow it all back.

“Ah, you do,” Kylo murmurs. Down to her smalls, she’s still an intimidating woman. Rey bites her tongue as Kylo leans back on her bed, determined not to look away from the other woman’s face. Something warm stirs in her belly that she doesn’t want to consider, but Rey knows that if she looks away, Kylo will consider her embarrassment a victory.

As it is, she thinks she sees a shadow of a smile on the other woman’s face.

“You should go now,” Kylo says, pressing a hand against the mound of her sex. Rey meets her gaze and refuses to blush. “We both know you have better things to do than this.”

Rey lets out a huff and crosses her arms over her chest. The monster in her belly will not calm, regardless of breathing exercises or disdain. “We also know that it doesn’t work like that,” she grouses. “We’re stuck until this thing decides we’re done.”

Kylo Ren doesn’t snort, but Rey thinks it’s a near thing. She glances down as the other woman slips her hand beneath her smalls, then forces her gaze up again. A gentle flush forms on Kylo’s cheeks and snakes down her neck.

Rey bites her bottom lip, then wrenches her gaze up to what she assumes is Kylo’s headboard.

“Fine,” Kylo says – and Rey shudders at the breathless hitch of her voice. “But I’m not going to stop in order to spare your dignity. It’s been a long day.”

Rey opens her mouth, intent on a witty retort, only to find herself brought short by a burst of pleasure. She heaves a breath, instead, and peeks at Kylo’s face. Kylo, still circling her clit, offers up an approximation of a shrug.

It’s almost enough to make Rey laugh. She sits down on the ground, instead, with an undignified grunt. Water seeps through her pants, and though the sensation doesn’t bother her, she sees Kylo squirm.

Despite the discomfort, Kylo doesn’t pull her hand away. Rey locks a groan in the depths of her throat as Kylo picks up the pace. There is no gentleness in her movements, but in the echo Rey feels against her own clit, there is practice, even care, to Kylo’s infrequent forays down to the warm wetness of her slit.

“You’ve done this a lot, haven’t you?” Rey manages past another wave of pleasure. She sees Kylo’s flush darken and can’t help the vicious jab of satisfaction that settles in her chest. Idly, she brings a hand to her right breast and cups it, rubbing her thumb past the risen nipple.

Kylo Ren whimpers.

The monstrous pride on Rey’s chest threatens to outroar the one breathing fire beneath her belly. She thumbs past her nipple again and relishes the noise that escapes Kylo’s lips.

“You don’t deserve this,” she whispers, voice husky. “You especially don’t deserve this of me.”

“I know,” Kylo huffs. She increases the pace of her fingers against her clit.

“You’re a killer,” Rey grunts out. She brings her free hand to her own clit and presses down, trying to stifle the sharp pleasure building there. The scent of sex is harsh in the slew of rain and wet grass. “Who’s to say a killer deserves to feel good?”

“You’ve killed, too,” Kylo tells her, her eyes fluttering closed. “Don’t lie to yourself, scavenger. I’ve seen you.”

“That’s not the point.” Rey bites back the memory that Kylo chooses to dwell on; blood seeping into Jakku’s sand; her muscles tight with pleasure and adrenaline.

“You enjoyed it,” Kylo hisses. She bucks her hips upward, and Rey relishes the sight of her flush bleeding onto her chest. Her breasts are captivating; they heave with each of Kylo’s ragged breaths. “We’re not so different, you and I.”

“I am nothing like you.” Rey gasps against an overwhelming burst of pleasure. She’s teetering at the edge of orgasm with no recollection of how she got there. When she manages to open her eyes, (though she doesn’t remember closing them), she sees Kylo Ren, mouth open, bottom lip bleeding.

“Say something,” the would-be Sith grunts out. “Rey, say something.”

“Monster,” Rey gasps.

Kylo Ren breaks.

The galaxy condenses to a single point, in Rey’s mind, before exploding outward, and then she’s clenching around nothing, gushing pleasure into her smalls while Kylo writhes on a cot some thousands of light years away.

The pleasure seethes, even as noise fades back in around her. By the time Rey opens her eyes, still struggling to breathe, the image of Kylo Ren has disappeared.

Rey stares at the rock where the other woman sat for longer than she’d like, forcing herself to come down from the high. The rain drives the heat out of her body.

Still, the buzzing of her thighs forces her to bite the inside of her mouth. She waits for the rush of shame to take the place of the pleasure and finds it – lacking.

Rey takes her hand from her breast and rubs it across her face.

When the last remnants of her orgasm have faded, Rey rises and brushes her hands against her tunic. She brushes the hair out of her face as she resumes her walk back towards the Caretakers’ village. Her hand, she realizes, breathing in, smells of water and sex.

*

Across the galaxy, Kylo Ren studies the back of her eyelids and curses the Force, her father, and the scavenger with lothcat eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought~ This was drafted twice; I'll fix typos once the sun's up.


End file.
